


Tales from Ebon

by lazbobthing



Category: Star Wars Legends: Knights of the Old Republic, Star Wars Legends: Knights of the Old Republic II: The Sith Lords
Genre: Asexual Disciple, Atton is a stupid but he's our stupid, Bao-Dur more like Bae-o Dur, F/M, Gen, In my head Bao-Dur is really tall and muscular swoon, M/M, Nonhuman Jedi Exile, Nonhuman female Revan, Other, Revan and Exile are cousins in this, Silliness and smut, drabbles and snippets
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-26
Updated: 2017-05-01
Packaged: 2018-04-17 05:50:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,195
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4654767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lazbobthing/pseuds/lazbobthing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tales from the Ebon Hawk, from when it roamed the galaxy under the command of Revan, to when it was home to the Jedi Exile and his crew. [Drabbles and snippets]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1:Bao-Dur, more like Bae-O-Dur.

**Author's Note:**

> This first chapter is shameless Bao-Dur/Exile smut and fluff, and universe setting up for the nonhuman Exile and Revan.

“So, what’s Nal Hutta?” Lazarus, the famed Exile asked, evergreen eyes focusing on Atton, losing himself in the scoundrel’s comforting drawl, blinking back to awareness as Disciple snorted.

“That bad? I did not think anything could compel you to bath.” He commented dryly, earning a flat look from Atton.

“You spend all day thinking up that joke? Maybe you and Bao Dur should start a circus.” He replied sardonically.

“I fail to understand the reference, but I doubt the explanation would prove worthwhile.” Bao-Dur gave Atton a blank stare. 

No one but Lazarus would have been able to catch the slight mischievous twinkle in the Iridonian’s eyes, and the Exile grinned at him, earning a wink in return.

“If you two wanna stop giving each other doe eyes, I was about to suggest we take the Ebon Hawk in for a landing?” Atton drawled, with a bemused if impatient look on his face. 

Lazarus went pink, and used the force to flick him in the ear, earning a yelp from the scoundrel.

“Go ahead.” The exile sniffed, turning and ambling towards his quarters. Unsurprisingly, after a minute, Bao-Dur followed at a sedate pace.

“Where are they going?” Asked Handmaiden, with a curious expression. Atton bit back a snort.

“Most likely to defile each other until we land.” Kreia said bluntly, already halfway out of the room. “I am going to meditate.”

The look on the Handmaiden and Disciple’s face was enough to make Atton walk face first into the door frame, he was laughing so hard.  
\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Bao-Dur knew one thing for certain. Well, he knew a few things for certain, many of them related to repairing droids and ships, but another thing he knew, was that he was hopelessly, helplessly in love with the General.

He had been stupid head over heels in love with the General since the Mandalorian War, back when he’d been just another tech in the crowd. He’d met the General face to face by pure coincidence, on a rare night off, the troops doing their best to relax.

Lazarus had had his long mahogany hair down from its noble low pony tail, and it only made the Jedi even more beautiful, in the Zabrak’s eyes, although some wouldn’t agree. 

His large nose and angular features made him look a bit odd to some, but when he smiled, truly smiled, the way the General’s cheeks dimples and his eyes crinkled at the corners made Bao-Dur’s heart feel as if it’d burst out of his chest.

He’d nearly passed out from shock when Lazarus had cornered him that night, and leaned up to press his lips to Bao-Dur’s own.  
The Iridonian had ended up pinning the smaller man to a wall, once they found some privacy, and made the Jedi come apart. Watching the General shudder and cry out in climax was the most beautifully glorious thing he’d ever seen.

And then it had happened again, and again, seemingly wherever there was a free moment to themselves, and eventually, Lazarus revealed his secret to Bao-Dur. 

The Jedi was of a near extinct race of humanoids known as Sirenae, who had hypnotic song and fed on a living being’s orgasm. 

Hunted and sold as pleasure slaves, the feline-like natured beings went into hiding, easily passing for humans unless caught with their clothes off. Sirenae had feline ancestry, and it was evidence by the soft fur that circled their upper arms, thighs, and coated the length of their spines. 

At first, he felt used, until the Jedi told him that’d he’d laid with no other since the first night they had slept together, and after that, their relationship had been better then he could have ever dreamed…

Until Malachor. Malachor, where he lost his arm, and together they committed genocide. Lazarus was a shell, numb with shock and empty, when he had received summons to go before the Council. One day he was there, and then he was gone. 

It took months for the Iridonian to learn of the fate of his lover, his General.

And it was a long five years of anger, and loneliness, and despair, until one fateful day on the surface of Telos. Where the body he pulled from the wreck coughed, and lifted its head, and evergreen eyes met his, dazed and confused.

“Anyone get th'number of the speeder that hit me?” Lazarus had asked woozily, and force help him, Bao-Dur’s heart seemed to beat for the first time in years, a stupid grin on his face.

He was broken from his memories by a clenching sensation around his member, and a desperate whine from the man he currently was impaling. "Shhh," He hushed him, silencing the exile's wanton sounds with his mouth, as he rolled his hips, forcing himself deeper into the smaller man. 

Lazarus keened against his lips, eyes rolling into the back of his head, his legs wrapped around Bao-Dur's waist, his hands scrabbled at the Iridonian's shoulders for purchase. Lazarus let out another high pitched, fucked out sound as the Zabrak picked up the pace, enjoying the needy sounds his actions produced from the Jedi. 

Nothing existed but them, when they were like this, no army of Sith to appear from the shadows, no ghosts of Malachor V to haunt their dreams...  
Stolen moments like this, were what kept Bao-Dur and his General going.


	2. 2: Not quite a Reunion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A conversation between a Jedi, an Admiral, and an Exile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah, these chapters don't have time continuity, they'll probably jump around between games and around during the games. I'll do my best to let you know where we're at at the beginning of each chapter, however. For instance, this takes place after Lazarus and crew boarded the Ravager, killed Nilihus, and destroyed the ship. In game this occurs only if you chose to have a female light side Revan, I think. I could be wrong.

Carth Onasi gazed at the window out into space, as he heard the door to his temporary quarters slide open. Bastila was off to the side, hidden from view, and he shared a long look with her, as foot steps approached. He exhaled a long breath, and turned round to face the famed Jedi exile, Lazarus.

He was unprepared for the bright smile that the exile wore, nor the striking similarity to another Jedi he had known, five years ago. He opened his mouth to speak, only to be cut off by the shorter male, who was grinning up at him.

"You're cuter then she said you'd be." Lazarus commented happily. 

Carth was sure he looked about two times as dumbstruck as he felt. This wasn't exactly how he'd imagined their meeting going.

"Excuse me?" He tried, clearing his throat, beyond embarrassed at the way his voice cracked. Lazarus beamed at him.

"You're Carth, right? The Carth Onasi?" Lazarus asked, for clarification, tilting his head. Carth nodded, still completely befuddled. 

"I'm Lazarus. Lazarus Holmes. You knew my cousin, Enya." He explained cheerfully, as if he hadn't just happily announced his familial tie to the Revanchist, Enya Freeman. 

"....You're ENYA'S COUSIN?" Bastila squawked, from her hiding place. Lazarus glanced her way, blinking owlishly.

"....Can I ask why Master Bastila is hiding behind a plant?" The Exile asked slowly, looking between them with eyebrows raised. Carth colored, and coughed, gesturing for Bastila to come into view, which she did, her cheeks pink with embarrassment.

Awkward silence reigned for a long moment, as they all gazed at each other, blinking slowly. 

"Do you know where Enya is?" Carth asked, after a minute, painfully aware of how small and lost his voice sounded. His face must have looked even worse, from the look of heartbroken dismay on Lazarus' own. 

"No. But when I was...away," He rubbed the back of his neck, "I would get holomail every now and then from her, untraceable and often long winded. She told me everything about what happened, and went on and on about you in particular, although she did mention being very proud of Bastila, and Juhani, and the rest of her beloved crew." He explained, with a crestfallen look to his features. 

“How do we know you’re telling the truth?” Bastila asked with a suspicious expression. To Carth’s surprise, Lazarus brightened and grinned mischievously.

"One word,“ He said, in a sing song voice, throwing his hands in the air.

"GIZKA!” He cheered, and both Admiral and Jedi Master blanched.

“Oh frak no,” Moaned Bastila inelegantly, burying her face in her hands. Carth just started laughing, helpless and belly aching, in a way he hadn’t laughed in a very long time.

Revan, Enya had done the very same thing upon stepping upon the Ebon Hawk to find a herd of Gizka waiting for them. It had taken a week for her to relent, and even after convincing a Selkath take the lot of the rapidly multiplying bastards, she insisted on keeping one.

Carth felt hope fill his chest, and it must have showed, because the Exile looked dismayed once more.  
"The last one I received was about six months before I was summoned back into known space, however. She said a deciding moment was coming in her fight, and if I ever happened to meet you, to tell you that she loved you, wholly and truly. Whatever she's doing, she's either close to victory, or dead. I'm sorry."

"I may be headed out her way, soon, however." He added, seeing the broken look on Carth's features. "But I," The door opened behind him, a tall Zabrak with a cybernetic arm ambling in to stand at Lazarus' side, his still intact hand taking the exile's own. Lazarus' features softened and he glowed up at the Zabrak, with a stupid smile.  
"We're going to Malachor V. We're going to end this, one way or another." The Zabrak said firmly, his voice surprisingly soft and gentle. This had to be Bao-Dur, one of Lazarus' companions... Although it looked as if their relationship was much closer then that.

Carth felt a pang in his chest, looking at the two, memories of Enya flooding his mind, and he attempted a smile. "I understand." He replied quietly.

"If you see Enya, tell her," He took a deep breath, meeting the Exile's eyes, "Tell her Carth Onasi did as he was asked."


	3. The Trial of the Exile

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A different trial then canon, as a brand new PTSD suffering Lazarus goes before the Jedi Council, and reveals to them a strange truth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This occurs on Telos, and is a different version of the holorecording of the Exile's trial. Different version, same outcome.

Lazarus stood numbly before the Jedi council, his mind a whirling haze of nothingness that ached and pounded in his skull. His vision was blurry, bleary, the silence he heard and felt in his soul leaving an almost tinny ringing in his ears, one he knew was imaginary yet all the more painful. 

Master Atris raised her voice again, almost going shrill in her eagerness to snarl and defame his character in every way, and it made him cringe, the sound jarringly painful in his fugue state.

Lazarus blinked, slowly, time seemingly passing at a decreased rate, and forced himself to focus on the face of Master Kavar, who’d been one of his favorite masters, back when he had been a padawan, just in time to catch his question.

“Why did you disobey the Council, Lazarus?” Kavar’s face, handsome when smiling kindly, seemed to be carved out of stone, eyes sharp like daggers.

Silence. 

At last, blessed silence, as the Council in its entirety stared him down.

An old, discombobulated chain of memory rose in his mind, a saying he’d heard his father impart more then once while he’d been alive. ‘The truth will set you free.’

“You mean, none of you knew, after all these years?” The rasp, the hoarseness of his own voice startled him, and Lazarus shifted restlessly on his feet, watching the wave of confusion that fell over the Council. 

A weak, bittersweet smile split Lazarus’ cracked lips, and he resisted the urge to rub at his eyes, as he took a deep breath,

“I followed Enya-“ He began, only for Atris to interrupt, scowling,

“And who is Enya? Another Jedi who fell to the Dark side?”

Rage erupted like a geyser of magma within him, and Lazarus closed his eyes, trying to center himself, letting the fury drain away, leaving him empty and listless once more.

“Revan’s real name was Enya Fre’Aman.” He spoke dully, staring blankly at the floor. “She is only four years older then I am, my cousin, and my only living family left, that I know of.”

Stunned silence met his words, and his eyes rose to take in the Council’s expressions, which were mostly of thunderstruck realization and one cause of outraged disbelief.

“I have followed the Jedi Code as long as I could, but family’s more important. You do everything for family, no matter what, because you love them, right?” Lazarus swallowed thickly, and cut himself off, fighting the emotions swelling within him at the word ‘love’, doing his best not to think of the kindest man, Iridonian, that he’d ever met, who he’d destroyed with a single command-

“You dare-“ Atris’ voice rose again, and he recoiled, the screeching of her voice turning his tanned skin an ashen pallor. 

“Where Enya’s going now, I won’t, I can’t follow. So just… cast your judgement already.” Lazarus spat out harshly, hands clenching into fists at his sides. 

The pounding in his head drowned out Atris’ condemnation, and the words of the other Council members as they spoke, only one word making it through the static in his brain. Exile.

He reached towards his belt, hand fumbling as he jerkily removed his lightsaber from its clip, and tossed it onto the floor, turning on a heel and staggering out.

Lazarus didn’t know where he was going, but more then anything, he couldn’t be here.


End file.
